Crescendo
by Erisa Anai
Summary: "My name is Santana Lopez and I'm the best damn violinist around, also I hate Quinn Fabray. It's not cuz everyone fauns over her 24/7, or cuz I'm attracted to her against my free will; it's cuz she is the concertmaster when everyone knows that it should be me." Set in San Francsisco, a Quinntana story about rivalry, music, and growing up.
1. Chapter 1

Suggested listening: Ancora Qui by Elisa Toffoli

**Crescendo**

_**To gradually become louder.**_

My name is Santana Lopez and I am the best damn violinist around, also I hate Quinn Fabray. It's not because everyone fauns over her 24/7, or that I am attracted to her against my free will; it's because she gets to be the lead 1st violin, aka concertmaster, when everyone knows I am more talented than her. I had hoped that getting into the prestigious San Fransisco Musical Arts Academy would be where the discrimination ended, but like many times in my life, I was wrong. What discrimination, you ask. No, it's not that I'm a lesbian. (Hello! San Fransisco.) It's because I am left-handed.

You may say at first, what a silly concept! But think about it, visualize a large symphony orchestra. Now, notice how all the stringed instruments point in the same direction, ever wonder why? Correct, because they're all right-handed and anyone who played left-handed was discouraged so much that they quit. They try to make excuses like, it's not aesthetically pleasing, or your bow could poke someone's eye out, but it's all bull. So if you ever come across a left-handed violinist, it's cuz they're freaking amazing, fought tooth and nail, and refuse to give up. That's me.

I practice so much that I no longer have finger prints on my right hand and I'm almost positive I have premature carpal tunnel in my neck. It's all worth it though to be where I am today. Even if I am currently hidden in the back row as a 2nd violin, the equivalent of a back-up singer, and Quinn Fabray is directly in my line of sight, sitting in my rightful spot. Her presence fuels my hate-fire.

"Santana honey, please quell your rage. I can feel you staring daggers at me again." My inner monologue is broken by speak of the devil. She lowers her instrument and looks over her shoulder at me. I focus on controlling my breathing as she meets my gaze head-on, making my chest jump, and gives me a wink. Ungh! Damn her sexiness.

"Enjoy it while you can, Lucy, it's the only way you'll ever be feeling me. But I bet you're into that sort of thing like all the other desperate housewives who read 50 Shades of Grey." I shoot back at her with disgust dripping. We hear the doors open and our professor/conductor walks in, rehearsal will begin soon.

Quinn turns in her seat to face me quickly with a sickening sweet smile. "Maybe I am into it but you'll never be the one tying me up." She returns to her original position, looking like an angel, as if she never admitted to being a kinky bitch. I try my hardest to focus on the music sheet in front of me and not Quinn Fabray tied to my bed...I fail.

* * *

I first met Quinn almost a year ago, the weekend before classes started. It was at a last day of summer party at some rich student's nearby mansion. The music selection was practically everything from 2-Poc to remixed Beethoven and blaring in every room. Some belligerent guy handed me a red solo cup full of questionable liquid that I watered the fake plants with. As my roommate, Tina, and I scanned our environment I realized quickly that I was no longer in high school.

I had come from a one horse town in Ohio where the jocks were always the cool kids and the nerds were the losers. Somehow, in the city, it was reversed almost. The nerds were now the cool kids, in their hipster clothes and thick-rimmed glasses, and the ones who looked like jocks now identified themselves as metrosexuals. Twilight zone. Whatever, I mentally brushed my shoulders off, no matter where I was I was smoking hot and everyone with eyes knew it. Hell, I bet even a blind guy could tell I was gorgeous by my voice alone!

"Come on, Ling Ling. Time to meet our future enemies and frenemies." I grabbed her wrist and pulled her though the crowd, ignoring her stutters about her name.

By the time midnight rolled around, T was finally relaxed (drunk) enough to speak full sentences without sounding like a train and I had successfully won another round of pool. While collecting my winnings from the crying brat boy I beat, I felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I turned around and there she was, no more than a foot away from me. This will probably be the only time I admit it, but I immediately thought that she was stunningly beautiful... I blame the alcohol that was in my system.

"You seem to enjoy wiping the floor with these boys, would you want to give me a try." Her voice sounded like sex and made my panties damp. I internally had to step on the brakes. This woman, after less than a minute, had far too much control over me for my liking. So, of course, my next line of actions were going to prove to her that she didn't.

"I would enjoy wiping the floor with you, as well Barbie, but you don't look like a challenge." The nameless blonde raised her perfectly arched eyebrow at me.

"Oh, that's a shame." She took a step into me and I involuntarily took a step back until I was up against the pool table. We were about the same height so now that she had me trapped the only place I could look was into her eyes. When I did, I became trapped in a whole different way. Her eyes penetrated and pinned me down with their swirling greens and hazel. I'm not sure for how long I was captivated but I was dimly aware that she started playing with the waistline of my jeans. I felt the ghosting of her fingers on my bare skin and it sent a shiver right through me.

"You'd be surprised how challenging I can be." She whispered while holding my stare. For a moment we just stood there, then as abruptly as she came, the turned on her heels and left. My pulse was pounding up my throat and I felt floored. That woman...ungh! How dare she, she had no idea who she was dealing with. I started my war path in the direction she left but by the time I caught up with her she already was surrounded by a gaggle of testosterone. I watched as she played and manipulated them all like puddy in her hands and that's when I felt this wave of unrelenting emotion well up within me. It was more intense then even my rage that would occasionally consume me, it was so powerful that it had to be none other than hate.

As the night wore on, she completely ignored me and more admirers flocked her way. I felt my emotions start to fester. When classes began and I had to endure her smug smile in nearly every class, the feelings became more acute. When we auditioned for the school orchestra (something that freshmen almost never got in to) and made it, only to find out that I was banished to the back and she to the front, I was zealous. Then when she was named the next concertmaster, after the current graduated, I knew without a doubt that I vehemently hated Quinn Fabray with every fiber of my being.

* * *

I was about to enter my dorm when I broke out into a verbal cussing match with myself. I had left my phone at the auditorium after rehearsal. I looked around and luckily no one saw my instant of insanity, except for this pigeon. So I gave the bird my middle finger and marched back the way I came.

Ten minutes later, I am standing in the doorway, just listening. Someone was in there playing a beautiful yet lonely melody that stopped me in my tracks. It felt so raw with emotion that I almost felt embarrassed to intrude on something so personal. But I simply could not live without my phone so I ventured in. As I got closer to the music, I had this nagging feeling in the back of my head like I kind of knew this song. It made me all the more curious as to whom was playing it. Finally, I turn the corner and am met with the back of Quinn fucking Fabray.

Even if she were facing me, she wouldn't know I was here. Her eyes were closed and she was completely engrossed within her tunes. Usually, when Quinn plays, it is with near perfect technique. Straight yet relaxed posture, as if a sculpture made of marble. Now, though, she is swaying along with the music as the heartache of the song is clear in her body language. I tear my eyes away from her and see my phone lying on the table to my right, exactly where I left it. If I wanted to I could grab it and go, no one would know I was here... If I wanted to.

Instead, I find myself getting out my fiddle that I still had with me. At the sound of my case latches, Lucy stops playing and faces me on her feet.

"Satan, what are you doing here!" Her shocked face is slightly amusing and I can't hold back my grin.

"Calm your tits, Lucifer. Just ignore me, like you always do, and keep playing." She watches as I fine tune my strings until I raise my eyebrow at her. "Well? Are you going to play or are you scared?"

Instead of answering me, she sits back down and starts her haunting melody again. She begins softly and gradually becomes louder, after a few seconds I hear my opening. I give her credit for not being startled when I start playing in harmony with her. At first I am just following her lead but then I start to branch out by adding more inflections here and there. At the same time, I start walking towards her until I stand directly in front of her. Her eyes are not closed this time but are watching me like a hawk.

I can hear in my mind where the song needs to go next, it just comes to me, but I want to sit down first. I want to be on the same eye level with her. So, quickly, I move her music stand away and grab the nearest chair. I plop down facing her and bring my violin back up. As we look at each other it feels like looking into a mirror, opposite but the same. That's when I take the lead and play my part of this song. It goes from lonely and pained to exciting and hopeful, it's like a dance and if I had to say which kind, it would be a tango.

Tired of playing the original melody, Quinn copies my movements a half note behind me. The echo effect we are creating sounds carefree and beautiful. There is a smile playing along the edges of her lips and we have disconnected our eyes since I sat down. To be honest, I'm sure I have a smile on as well. Who knew I could have fun playing music with my hated nemesis? When it feels natural, I return to the melody and let Lucy finish off with a bit of flair. Our last notes ring throughout the auditorium, breaking the peaceful bubble we made around ourselves.

For some reason, we are both breathing hard. I notice some of her hair has fallen out of place, resting against her check. I resist the urge to move it back behind her ear. Realizing that I was blatantly staring at her, I get out of the chair and make my way to the back and put away my violin.

"We should probably get out of here, the lights will be shutting off soon." I say, cursing the nerves I hear in my voice.

"Uh, yea. Wouldn't want to get locked in here either, especially with you." Her tone confuses me, I'm not sure if it's meant to be insulting so I look over at her. She is putting away her own violin but looks back up when she feels my eyes on her. "Who knows what could happen." And there is the teasing I am used to, reminding me that that's all it is. Teasing. The hammering of my heart ignites my anger, I need to get out of here, like now.

"Ok, well bye, Blondie. Hopefully, you'll get kidnapped on your way back to the dorms." I reply gruffly and head out the door.

"No, wait. _Santana!_" I don't know why I stop, maybe it was the way she said my name, but I did so she could catch up to me. She stands next to me, almost shyly, and I give her a look.

"What is it, Lucille?"

"I was wondering if you wanted to get something to eat. With me." Never has she ever asked me something like this. Let alone talked to me as if we were friends. I suspect ulterior motives so I gotta give a surprise attack.

"Only if you pay."

"What, why do I have to pay? It's not a date, Lezpez."

"You were the one who asked so you should pay. And it's definitely not a date, I hate you. So this is me doing you a favor and how you repay me for said favor." The look of outrage on her face is delicious. "Take it or leave it, Blondie."

* * *

Thirty minutes later, we're in Mc D's and I'm chowing down my Big Mac. Quinn is staring out the window, lost in her thoughts. I spy her untouched, soggy fries and steal one thinking she wouldn't notice.

"I saw that." There I go being wrong again. White girl is pinning me down with her stare and her brow is slightly furrowed. "Why would you steal one of my fries, you dork. You have your own." She argues.

"Your's look better." I make my point and steal another fry just to annoy her.

"Hey! Give that back!" I take a bite then throw the rest at her, aiming at her cleavage. The shot goes in and I raise my arms in victory.

"Booyah!" Quinn's jaw drops in surprise, then it morphs into an evil smile. She grabs her fries and declares a food fight. Innocent fries are flying everywhere, the red stain of ketchup adding to the massacre.

Eventually, we run out of ammo and are laughing like delinquents. My cheeks start to hurt from smiling too much and it feels... nice. The black, elderly employee at the counter clears her throat loud enough for us to hear. I look over and I can tell she is silently cursing us with voodoo magic.

"Sorry." Quinn squeaks before we break into one last round of giggles. I get up and start collecting the fries on the floor and Lucy follows suit. Every now and then, I glance at her and find her look away from me quickly with a blush. Even the tops of her ears are turning pink, kinda adorable. Wait, what?! Did I just think that? Shit.

"San, are you ok?" She must be able to tell I'm at odds with myself.

"Yeah, don't worry about me Quinnifer. You should be worrying about that fry still in your shirt." I meant to be snarky but instead I sound playful, wtf?

We're standing up now and I can't help but watch as she reaches in the top of her shirt and does indeed pull out a fry. With a laugh she pops it into her mouth and smiles at me. I think I'm smiling back at her but I've just noticed that she has a smudge of ketchup on her pulse point. Before I can stop myself, I reach out and scoop it up with my finger. I figure I passed the point of no return, so I bring my finger to my lips and lick it clean.

Lucy looks like she stopped breathing and is staring at my lips. "You had ketchup on you." I lamely say as I wonder what is going on with us. I'm used to us bickering back and forth like cats and dogs, didn't we hate each other?

"Thanks." She finally replies all breathy like she just ran a marathon.

"I'll go throw this all away now." I inform her and turn away. I feel like I need a few seconds to myself to get recollected. My name is Santana Lopez and I do _not_ like Quinn Fabray. Okay, got it.

"Ready to leave, Tiger?" She asks when I get back. I refuse to look at her, I just grab my case and head to the door. A few seconds later, I hear her footsteps follow me closely as we make our way back home. The silence around us is something I don't want to think about. Frankly, I don't want to think about anything that transpired in the last hour. It's too confusing. I know that tomorrow everything will just be the way they always were, today changes nothing. Quinn will go back to ignoring my existence and/or teasing me with desire while being the bane of my -

"You know, if could control your attitude more, you'd be an exceptional musician." The she-devil interrupts my thoughts again more than half way home.

"Excuse you, I'm already an exceptional musician unlike some people who sleep their way to the top." I say in a huff and continue forward. The faster we get to our building, the faster I can be rid of her.

"Are you implying that's what I did? You're seriously delusional." The outrage is in her voice, giving her a higher pitch that scratches my ear drums.

"Well, that's the only way that makes sense since we both know I'm a better violinist than you." This argument has been a long time coming, I've got my insults fully stocked. I didn't expect her to grab my wrist and force us to stop though, she has a strong grip.

"Let's get one thing straight." Her piercing eyes are locked onto mine and becoming more green than brown. "You are not better than me, more talented maybe, but not better. I work my ass off everyday, can take direction well from the conductor, and know how to direct others. If you would stop being the left-handed victimized, self-centered, God's gifted bitch to everyone; then maybe you'd realize that an orchestra is made of many exceptional musicians and not just one."

My hand struck like lightning against her cheek. Instantly, I saw a deep, red welt form against her pale skin and I regretted my actions.

"Shit! Quinn, I'm sorry. It was a reflex, are you ok?" She moved her head back to face me and there were unshed tears building up in her eyes. I knew that had to have hurt and I fully expected her to retaliate. When her hand came up, I braced myself but didn't try to stop her, I deserved it anyway. My eyes shut automatically so I didn't see her hand stop midway. I also didn't see her grab my face with both hands but I sure did feel it. Before my brain could process what was happening, I felt pulled forward until my lips crashed into something soft, wet, and warm.

Time slowed to a stop, my lungs forgot how to function, and it felt like I was on fire. All too quickly, time sped up dramatically, and I was now being pushed away. I stumbled back, almost falling flat on my ass, before I regained my balance and opened my eyes. Quinn was already down the street, walking away at a furious pace, and I stand here stunned. I narrow my eyes and try to piece together what the fuck just happened. Then I start to question my sanity, did that really just happen? No way, it can't be! But I have a stinging in my palm like I just slapped a brick wall and I can taste strawberry gloss on my lips. I don't wear lip gloss.

* * *

A/N: So please leave reviews, the more reviews I get the faster I post the next chapter. I'm not sure how long this story will even be, could be a three-shot but really idk. It's just been itching in my brain to be written even though I should be working on my other fic. So, thanks for reading and I promise I will update this and Piano's Point of View... eventually... promise!

Oh and the song I imagine they play together is called Ancora Qui, I heard it from D'Jango Unchained and fell in love. If I was talented enough, I would actually make a violin cover of this song. But I'm not so I cry ;(


	2. Chapter 2

**Crescendo**

I think I stood outside in the cold for ten minutes before I actually went inside the building. After the supposed kiss, everything was a bit hazy. I don't remember opening the door to my room, or even changing into sleep wear, but here I lay in bed, ready for sleep. If only my brain would shut the hell up! Every few seconds it goes: _She kissed me_.

I mean, I didn't even see it happen so what proof do I have? For all I know, she slapped me with a wet fish. Or she could have walked away after I slapped her and a complete stranger jumped out of the bushes and stole a kiss from my luscious lips. That's totally believable, right?_ She kissed me._

She probably meant to slap me but got tripped up and accidentally landed on my lips, that would also explain why she walked away angrily. Hmm, that makes sense but really any of these scenarios are plausible. There's no way, though, that she meant to do it. _She didn't mean to kiss me._

I let out a sigh but it didn't relieve the pressure in my chest. I look at the time on my phone, 11:58 pm. Ugh, I need to sleep. I need to stop thinking about Quinn Fabray and relax. The one thing that always relaxes me is music. I close my eyes and listen to the melody that starts to play through my mind. It's of a single violin, sad and lonely, played after rehearsals are over, in a dark auditorium. _She kissed me._

* * *

Fuck Quinn Fabray! All day she has been a bitch, which is what she is, but even more so than usual. What makes it worse is the fact that we share almost all the same classes.

In our Composition class, after presenting a rough draft of a piece I was working on, she ripped it apart. Literally. She took my sheet music and "accidentally" tore the paper from making so many corrections. Then in Classical Interpretation, I made a comment on how gay Phinot was when she decided to start a debate on how sexuality is irrelevant in music. The rest of class was spend arguing back and forth.

My entire day went like that and I've had enough. I'm actually quite proud of myself for maintaining my cool for so long. Resisting the urge to slap her again twenty plus times must be a new record. Now all I have to do is make it through rehearsals and I'm home free. It's Friday and I fully intend on spending my weekend far, far away from campus. Preferably, sipping margaritas on a yacht or shooting Jack while dancing on a bar, but I'm not picky.

I'm about to take my seat when someone dares to shove past me. The swish of a yellow sun dress confirms my suspicions.

"Watch it, Fabray!" I yell at her, expecting her to ignore me. Instead, she turns on her heels and shoots me the darkest death glare I've ever seen. Ever. Like I felt Death breathing down my neck. It kind of shook my soul but I refused to let her scare me, I'm Santana fucking Lopez. I've dealt with worse, like being outed in a crowded hallway full of bible thumping red necks.

"Alright, listen up everyone." Professor Gregor announces. I glance up at him as I take my seat and prepare. He's wearing a tweed coat over suspenders with a green bow tie and I feel like barfing. That's the effect bow ties have on me and it doesn't help that he's a walking stereotype of a music professor. Old, crazy hair, and German with thick glasses.

"Today, we will be attempting a challenging composition from the Renaissance era by blah blah blah..." He drones on and I tune him out. Sheet music is already being passed out and I recognize this piece. I learned it when I was nine and could probably play every part while half asleep. I'm mentally going through all the ins and outs of the song when he catches my attention again.

"Quinn, dear, are you prepared to play the solo?" Of course she gets the solo, Quinn gets everything.

"Um, yes. Yes, I'm ready." Is it just me or did she sound unsure of herself?

Anyways, we begin and I patiently wait to play my parts. Someone in the brass sounds off key and another in my section has their timing wrong but I can't pin point who. Finally, the solo comes up and I can't help but watch Lucy. I can't place my finger on it but something isn't right. Is it her posture or the amount of color on her face? Whatever it is, you can hear it in her playing. She speeds up when she's supposed to slow down and she's too loud when she should be soft. Eventually, the conductor stops us.

"I'm so sorry, Professor. May I be excused?" Quinn asks before he can even say anything.

"Of course, go ahead." With that she walks out of the room towards the bathroom. How odd. "Clarence, you're sounding off key. Correct yourself. Percussion, I really need to hear you more. Strings, is anyone comfortable playing the solo?" Here is my chance, finally.

I raise my hand before anyone else. "I can play the solo, G." I say with no hesitation. He peers down at me for a moment, contemplating.

"Alright then, everyone from the top."

The rest of practice goes off without a hitch, I even get a compliment from the conductor. The rest of these bitches surrounding me say nothing, they be jealous. I don't let them get to me, though. Every now and then I wonder where Quinn could have gone. She hasn't come back and rehearsals will be over soon. Not like I'm worried about her or anything. It's just that if she were gone for good then I could take my rightful place as concertmaster.

"Bravo! Bravo, everyone! You all did better than I anticipated. Since it is Friday, I shall release you early but keep this in mind. Music expresses that which cannot be put into words and that which cannot remain silent." I have to admit, that was a good one. Before I forget it, I'm tweeting it right now. I pull out my phone and start clicking away while everyone seems to be in a race to leave.

Posting my tweet, I secure my phone back in my pocket and look up to find that I'm the last one here. Or maybe not, Quinn's equipment is still here. Where the hell could she be? I briefly think about packing her stuff up for her but banish the thought quickly. I'm not her damn mother, I'm not even her friend! But at the same time, I wouldn't feel right if I just left it there. Decisions, decisions.

In the end, I decide to practice some more. Only for five minutes, and if she isn't back by then, I'm leaving. So I lift Brisingr to my chin (Yes, that's the name of my violin.) and play the first tune that comes to mind.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Yay, the bitch is back. "That's my song, you can't play it."

"Well, you didn't say shit last time and I actually helped you create the rest of it. So it's as much my song as it is your's." I put Brisingr down and rise to my feet so that we are eye to eye.

"Oh, I see what's going on. You think that after playing the solo for one practice that you're somebody special now. That the professor trusts you enough to hand over the orchestra to you on a silver platter. Wrong, Lopez. You're still an arrogant bitch that doesn't belong here. This is _my_ orchestra, and will be until I graduate, so you better back the fuck off." Quinn has on what I like to call the HBIC face, unlucky for her, I have my own.

"I may be arrogant but at least I have what it takes to back it up. I would never of had to play the solo if you knew what the hell you were doing. You were playing worse than a beginner at their first recital and you choked. So what exactly is it that has you acting like Bitchzilla all day and an insecure amateur? Let me guess, is your current boy toy not putting out? Has Professor Patches twisted your panties so hard that you can't keep up your perfect angel charade?" Venom is leaking through my every word. There's a spark in her eyes when I make that last comment so I latch onto it.

"Is that where you disappeared to for the last hour of practice?" I lean forward and whisper into her ear my final words. "Were you fucking him on his desk while looking at the picture of his wife and kids?" Suddenly, the nearest chair is sent tumbling down by the Barbie in a fit of rage. I know rage when I see it.

"You know nothing about me so don't you dare make assumptions out of your misplaced jealousy. I owe you a very hard slap to the face for yesterday, but I'm better than that." Lucifer seemed to regain some of her composer and gathered herself up. "Unlike you, I have class. You mean nothing to me, Santana Lopez, and I will not waste anymore of my time on you. You're not worth it."

She's down the hallway when I catch up with her. If she wants to bring up yesterday, and what she owes me then so be it. I owe her something as well.

"Quinn!" I yell and she immediately spins to face me. I don't give her the chance to say anything more by walking right into her and kissing those strawberry stained lips of her's. This time lasts longer than the first and I can make out a few details. Like how warm and shallow her breathing is, how her lips have parted slightly in surprise that I take full advantage of, and how much I like it. That last one makes me take a step back, I like kissing her. _Shit. _

We're both silent and when she opens her eyes and looks at me, I'm not sure what to make of the emotions swirling within them. Lucy Q is the most complicated woman I've ever known so I have no idea what to expect next.

"You stole a kiss from me yesterday so I stole one back. You can slap me now if you want." I say almost out of breath as my chest feels like it's in a choke hold. Apparently, Q didn't just want to slap me anymore. She somehow morphs into the Hulk and shoves me hard against the wall. Before I can reach for the razors in my hair, she's attacking my lips with her's.

I can feel every inch of her body pressed against mine, her hands grip tightly to my hips and pull me even closer. With no way out, I give in to her and wrap my arms around her neck, letting her ravage me. She's vicious as she nips and sucks on my lips but never sloppy or messy. When she licks slowly and tantalizingly against my mouth, I open without a second thought. Now our tongues are twisting and turning against each other in an erotic battle for dominance. My pulse is going crazy and I feel like I might spontaneously combust. Then goosebumps shoot through me when I feel her soft fingers sliding up my shirt. She's only moving them up and down my sides but I can't suppress how good it feels, or the moan that escapes me.

After hearing me, I can feel the corners of her lips turn into a smile while we kiss. She no longer is plundering my mouth like a seasoned pirate, instead she slows down and becomes sweet and gentle. I've never been the sweet and gentle type but I can't seem to get enough of her. Our make out sessions peters off into little kisses until we're just resting our foreheads against each other's. She still running her fingers over my skin and I realized that I've been playing with her hair. It's incredibly soft and smells like jasmine and I can't wipe this smirk off my face.

"I think I'll save that slap for another time, like when I have you bent over my knee. Just so you know, you're still an arrogant bitch." Her tone is light and flirty, and I don't think I've ever seen her look so beautiful. Hair in disarray, lips bruised, and a genuine smile.

"Ok, you're still a fucking tease." I reply back when I remember how to speak.

"And I'm still the concertmaster." She continues and hardens her gaze on me.

"Until I take it from you." We size each other up one last time before she breaks and stares at my lips.

"Fair enough. I need to go now." I remove my hands from her hair but her fingers are still tracing patterns on my stomach.

"I'm not stopping you." I startle her out of the trance my mouth seems to have her in and smile. Someone definitely has got it bad for all of this. I mentally point a circle at myself.

"Right, ok then." Slowly taking away her hands, she steals one last soft kiss from me before leaving.

* * *

The weekend was filled with bar hoping up and down Castro Street with Tina (Who is becoming quite the gay hag.) and thoughts of Quinn Fabray. I know that a make out session changes nothing about our dynamic, but I honestly can't help myself. The chick is banging hot and we played tonsil hockey, I feel very accomplished.

Monday rolls around and I am apprehensive. It could be that I'm still hung over or that Blondie is unpredictable as ever. So when I spot the first sign of golden hair and hazel eyes accompanied by a mischievous smirk, I let out a sigh of relief. It looks like Bitchzilla has gone back to the ocean and a certain good girl has a bad streak.

Throughout classes, we spoke not a single word to each other but constantly exchanged fleeting glances and small touches whenever possible. Same thing happened during rehearsals, I even got to play solo again without a dirty look from Queen Quinn.

"Ok everyone, that is it for today. You all did very well and I am confident that we shall have a marvelous show for our end of year performances. You may be on your way but Quinn and Santana, please see me in my office when you are ready." I've been in trouble enough times to know that this is either a really good thing or fucking horrible. I mentally try to recall all the shit I've done recently that could warrant this visit but come up empty-handed. Unless someone saw Quinn and I the other day getting too friendly, but who would complain about two hotties getting their mack on?

I see Quinn trying to look calm but I can tell she's nervous also. "Well, ready to get this over with?" I ask walking up to her. She nods her head silently as we make our way out.

Gregor's office is almost above the auditorium so we have to take the stairs to reach it. The door is wide open when we get there and there's also another person inside. After a moment I realize who it is, it's the Dean of Music, Professor Patrick. When he hears us enter, he gives a pearly white smile that would make any straight woman swoon.

"Ladies, welcome! Please have a seat." Where Prof. G is old and hairy, Patrick is young and handsome, if you're into George Clooney look-a-likes.

"So ladies, it should come as no surprise that you two are the best of our orchestra." G begins when we are seated. "You both work very hard and it shows, I commend you. That being said, the Dean would like to make you both a proposal." He nods towards the Dean.

"I'm going to cut right to the chase, girls." Pat says as he takes a seat on the corner of Greg's desk. "The end of year performance is coming up and I want you two to be the highlight of the show. This isn't just about showing parents and the city how well our students do, it's also about recruiting the next year's students and funding. Nationally, music programs have been taking a major hit and I think it's largely because we aren't connecting with people. The average joe doesn't know who Mozart is or appreciate the classics like they should be. So, your part in all of this will be to duet a few more current songs of today so that people can connect and recognize the beauty of what we do here. Are you up for the challenge?"

"Hell yes, where do I sign up?" I announce, he had me at highlight.

"Quinn?" Prof. G asks when she doesn't answer right away.

"Yes, I would be honored." She smiles and bats her lashes, I have to remind myself to look away.

"Perfect. Then that's all for now, girls. You may go for now and I will contact you about the details later. Oh and thank you so much, really proud of you." The Dean finishes and gives one more panty-dropping smile.

We exit the office and on the way down I strike up a conversation. "So, it's a month away, you think you'll be ready by then?" I can't help that I'm competitive, so sue me.

"Oh I'm positive I'll be ready but will you be able to handle the pressure?" Quinn gives me a seductive sideways glance as we walk along. "Or will you crack after wanting to be center stage for so long?" I've never had anyone who could match me, quip for quip, so our banter is enjoyable.

"Baby, I'm used to having people watch while I _perform_." I accentuate my words enough for her to catch my voyeuristic drift. A blush blossoms as soon as I called her "Baby" in response and I smile to myself. Santana 1, Quinn 0.

"Miss Fabray." Our moment is rudely interrupted by Dean Pat, who is at the end of the hallway. "I'm sorry, but the Professor and I have one more favor to ask."

"I'll be right there." She answers then then turns back to me. "I'll text you later, ok?" Without waiting for my response, she heads down the hall towards the office. Whatever, I say to myself before walking the opposite direction. I'm almost out when I stop myself, she doesn't have my number, I never gave it to her.

So I'm turning around to find her when I hear a door shut forcefully. Strange, that sounded like one of the auditorium doors. The Lima Heights Adjacent in me says I should mind my own business, could be a serial killer, but my Mexican third eye is telling me something isn't right. My Mexican third eye is never wrong so I investigate.

Using my ninja skills I picked up from Tina, I stealthily head towards the closest set of doors. Slowly, I push my way in and take a look. Music stand are where they should be, nothing looks like it's splattered in blood, just Quinn and the Dean making out... ... ...This is the one time in my life I'm right but wish I were wrong.

* * *

Start playback of "Ancora Qui" here.

* * *

A/N: ...so yeah. I'm thinking you guys hate me right now, huh? It's ok, I don't like me either cuz of this but it had to be done. Just know that I love you all and thank you so much for the wonderful reviews! Shout outs to boringsiot and Quinntana2, missed you guys! Next chapter for Piano POV will be coming soon!

"Music expresses that which cannot be put into words and that which cannot remain silent." -Victor Hugo


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I don't remember if I put this on the other ones... oh well. I own nothing.

**Crescendo**

In those three seconds of watching them kiss, I had an epiphany. I was jealous. Needless to say, I hauled ass out of there, not caring if they heard or not. The need to run overwhelmed my senses and before I knew it, I was charging through the campus to get to my dorm room. The look of fear, as people got out of my way, would normally please me but not right now. All I could think about and feel was jealousy.

What's more shocking is, it's been there all along. Since the moment I met her, I've wanted her but knew I could never have her. So, Instead of becoming a pathetic, love-sick puppy I chose to become a hateful bitch to her. What I don't understand is, why do I feel like I've lost her? She was never mine to begin with so why do I feel betrayed?

I'm standing in the middle of my room now, just standing. Trying to understand all these emotions at once feels like drowning.

"Santana, what's wrong?" Tina asks, looking up from her laptop in concern.

"Get your fake ID ready, Ling Ling, we're going to Moby Dick's." One thing I've learned about this city is that a gay bar works better than therapy.

* * *

If I was the girl I used to be four years ago and walked in on that scene, I would have taken video evidence and later blackmailed them both. If I was the girl I used to be two years ago, I would've stormed in and beaten Prof. Patches within an inch of his life using my sandals and earrings. Today, I am five shots in, sharing my sob story with a bar full of queers. That is called growth people.

"So let me get this straight," the effeminate bartender says while making Tina's drink, "this girl kisses you twice, after a year of being a bitch tease, then you find her fooling around with a teacher?"

"Yuuup, that's the gist of it." Insert heavy sigh here.

"Honey, have you seen yourself in the mirror?" a fellow drinker, I think named Jason, exclaims with extra drama. "If I looked like you, I wouldn't be hung up on some bi-curious bimbo."

"Mmm hmm!" another guy agrees.

"Preach it, girl!" Tina thinks she's black when she drinks, it's hilarious.

"I've got one word for you, baby girl. Honesty," the bartender continues. "Even if it's brutal, it's the truth. Ask this chick what her deal is and go from there."

If you know who I am, then you would think that I'd be all for this advice. Brutal honesty is a forte of mine, but when it hits a little too close to home, I shy away. "But, the truth can hurt," I admit in a weepy voice, this liquor is getting to me.

The gays coo at me like I'm a lost child, "Aww, that it can but it's best to find out now before she _really_ messes you up inside." I slowly process that piece of info. If only someone had told me that a few years back, maybe I'd still be talking to my (ex?) best friend.

"Have I told you guys about Brittany, yet?" I ask and from there the night becomes a tear-stained blur.

* * *

The next day, Tina and I crawl our asses out of bed and barely make it to class. It's one of those days where we wear our shades at all times to hide our raccoon eyes. Because of my intoxication last night, I forgot to formulate a game plan on how to deal with Quinn today. As I sit in the back row of the lecture hall, I'm thinking avoidance is the best bet. Honesty, I remind myself, but until I can talk to her alone, avoid her at all costs!

"Nice to see you made it on time," a sugary soft voice sits next to me as the gods laugh at my plan. The harlot takes in my disheveled appearance and shades. "Rough night?"

"You could say that," I answer in a neutral tone and refuse to look at her. How can her mere presence excite and infuriate me at the same time?

"Good thing I got you this, then." She places a lidded paper cup onto my table. Curiously, I open the lid and smell the sweet ambrosia that is coffee.

"Black with sugar," I state, trying not to sound impressed. "How'd you know?"

"Lucky guess." She settles into her seat and starts taking notes.

Out of the corner of my shaded eye, I watch her in confusion. "Thank you," I say after a beat. No one's ever gotten me coffee, or any type of gift really, without wanting something in return. Why is she being nice to me? She tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear and I notice that she's wearing jeans today. It looks good.

"You're welcome," it's barely above a whisper, but I still hear her. The rest of class I keep my head pointed to the front as my heart goes back and forth between anger, confusion, and maybe a little bit of hope.

Finally, lunch rolls around and I walk up to Q. "Hey, can we talk?" I ask gruffly, I think Snix came out a little, but Quinn just shrugs it off.

"Sure, where to?" Hmm, I hadn't thought about that.

"How about the roof," I say on a whim. It's been a while since I went up and no one ever goes there.

"The roof? I'm pretty sure that's restricted access." I give her an incredulous eyebrow raise.

"Just follow me, Fabray." Without meaning to, I take her hand and lead her to the correct staircase. The touch of her skin both burns and freezes me momentarily; I try ignoring it and continue forward and up the steps.

"You've never been one to follow the rules, have you?" she asks lightly when we make it to the roof top, but I can see her fidgeting with her hands. She moves closer to the edge to see the horrible view of traffic, dumpsters, and old brick buildings. I just watch her and take it all in. The sight of her still makes my heart race but also makes me choke on anger.

"Do I make you nervous?" I ask the first thing that pops into my mind. I didn't plan on starting the conversation this way, but here it goes.

In response, she laughs nervously. That answers my question right there. "Um, yes. You sometimes do, but only when you surprise me."

"So, are you gay?" That definitely surprised her. She's tripping on her words.

"I ... uh ..." She is struggling to come up with an answer. The longer she takes, the heavier my chest becomes and the more stupid I feel. Being a college experiment is nothing new to me; in fact I used to relish it, this time it hurts though.

"Hey, it's ok. You don't have to answer that. I get it, it's a phase." I turn towards the exit as resentment begins to course through my veins like boiling mercury.

"No, San. Wait!" My hand rests on the handle but I don't face her. I can feel a gentle let-down coming on followed by 'can we be friends?'

"I ... I've never been attracted to any females in my entire life until I met you. I don't know what that makes me; I just know that I like you. Despite your rapid mood swings, vulgarity, and Napoleon complex; I like you, Santana. I can't promise you anything, not even that this isn't a phase, but if you're willing I'd like to see where this thing between us goes."

I must admit that I consider just saying yes. It would be so easy to forget everything else and get swept away by a fairy tale romance but I know better. The world sucks, life is cruel, and happiness is a mirage. I steel myself for the consequences my words will bring as I finally turn to her.

"Is that how you take on life? You just go with it and see where it takes you. Is that how you and Dean Pat started hooking up?" Her jaw drops like a gaping fish.

"Don't try denying it, I saw you together yesterday. I know I'm not Mother Teresa or a good person in general, but even I know it's massively fucked up being the other woman to a man who's been married for as long as I've been alive. Or are older men just a phase for you?" Her embarrassment turns to fury and I wonder if she's going to finally slap me. She walks up to me, green eyes blazing with unshed tears.

"Screw you, Lopez," she says softly then shoves past me and returns downstairs. I watch her leave and a regretful emptiness settles within me. It's too late for that, I've been screwed since the day I met her.

* * *

It's Wednesday now, the only day the orchestra doesn't practice, so Lucy and I will be going over our song selections for the show. After the rooftop incident, things have almost gone back to how they used to be … almost. Every time I see her now, it fucking hurts. It hurts like a knife stabbing into my guts, and whenever we bicker, the knife twists deeper.

As for her, she's a complete ice queen. The only emotion I see in her eyes when she looks my way is indifference. That's probably what hurts the most. The probability that I really don't matter to her; that she really doesn't care.

I'm walking through the library now, our designated meeting place, when I find her sitting at a desk, writing in her notebook. She looks achingly gorgeous, as usual, and my heart plummets and splinters along the way. I take a deep breath and head over.

"Fabray," I acknowledge as I sit across from her. She doesn't even bother looking up, bitch.

"We have ten minutes to fill and I was thinking we could do a medley featuring Adele, maybe Justin Timberlake or Lady Gaga, even."

"Or Rihanna, we could start it off with Unfaithful."

"That's a possibility, I'll write it down." She knew I was trying to provoke her, but still nothing. Whatever, time to be professional.

"A medley is almost common now; let's try something different, something no one would expect." I can't even begin to recount the number of lame Journey medleys I've found across the internet.

"What do you suggest?" her tone is no nonsense, straight to the point.

"A mash-up of old school and new school," I say, voicing the ideas I've had running through my head. "Something like Thrift Shop mixed with Bust A Move, then into More Than Words and Just Give Me A Reason." A part of me wonders if she even knew knows the songs I just listed. She seems more into obscure indie music like the rest of the hipsters here.

"That actually sounds like a great idea. It's going to take a lot of work though, especially mixing the song together." For the first time, her poker face breaks and shows signs of excitement for our project.

"I'm not doing anything today, we could start right now. Unless you need to go somewhere ... meet someone," I don't know why I say that last part, I sound pathetic.

"No, we can start now," she says, returning to her cold self.

Two hours later, our stomachs begin to protest, that's how we end up at McDonald's once again. I can tell that neither of us want a repeat of what happened last time, but we're at a difficult transition in the arrangement that we had have to figure out before going our separate ways.

Throughout our greasy meal, we somehow keep it professional and make progress in our work. Until someone invited invites themselves over to our table.

"Hey, Quinn! Fancy seeing you here, with Santana Lopez, of all people." A short girl with blonde hair up in a high ponytail approaches us. I start wondering where they breed all these Stepford Wives with fake smiles standard.

"Hello, Kitty. We're just finishing up some school work." Suddenly, my space is invaded.

"My name's Kitty Wilde, we never met before but I am a big fan of yours." This new chick is all up in my grill and running her fingers down my arm. Frankly, she's scaring me with that crazy look in her eyes. I try to create some space between us and look to Quinn for help.

Quinn isn't looking at me though, her gaze is following the trail her friend is making on my skin, and a slight frown appears on her brow.

"Nice to meet you, Kitty," I say politely. My instincts are telling me to handle this girl cautiously. "I'm sorry to cut this short but I need to get going now, have to meet my roommate." I smile at her, wondering when she will get the hint and release me from the booth, but she stays planted in her seat.

"Kitty," I hear an icy, restrained voice next to us. "You have to get up so she can leave."

"Oh I'm sorry. It's just that I think you are super hot. What are you doing Friday night?"

The forwardness of Miss Wilde screams that she is used to getting what she wants. I'm tempted to see the look on Quinn's face right now, is she still indifferent?

"She's busy Friday," someone speaks for me. What the hell?

"I am?" I ask in pure confusion and look at the Ice Queen.

"Yes, we have to practice," her answer is curt but the way she's looking at me makes it seem like a demand.

"How about you let Santana answer, Quinnie," Kitty retorts then turns expectantly to me and I realize what's happening. These girls are like cats marking their territory, one stray insult away from an actual cat fight. I feel objectified and the knife twists deeper.

"Q's right, we need to practice. The performance is just a couple weeks away and we need to be perfect." My abuela taught me that it's better to go with the devil you know than the devil you don't. A smirk makes its way on Lucy's face, as if she won, and that angers me. "But after that, maybe we could hang out then." Kitty's disappointment turns into a smile, and for the first time, it looks genuine.

"Ok, that sounds great!" Then Kitty takes my hand and uses my pen to write her number on me. "Call me if you need _anything_." Yes, she said it like _that_. She then removes herself from the booth and walks away, not bothering to say goodbye to Quinn. The girl sure knows how to make an impression.

"I thought you had to go." My musings are cut short by the blonde across from me. And I may be mistaken but, did I hear jealousy?

"Not really, I just wanted to get away from her. She seems like one of those chicks that marries you while you're sleeping."

"She is," she says it with so much conviction, I have to laugh.

"It makes perfect sense that you two are friends now. Crazy bitches need to stick together."

"That must be why I spend time with you." Touché.

"What? It's not my charming personality?" After a beat, we both scoff at my ridiculousness.

"You know, when you're not acting like a robot towards me, or making me want to strangle you, you're fun to hang out with. This is nice," I say out loud cuz that knife almost disappears when we're joking together.

"I guess I can endure you when you're not preaching your greatness to the world or degrading me," Lucy answers but doesn't look up from her notebook.

"Do you wanna just finish this up then, now that the Crazy One is gone?" She nods her head in acceptance and in less than an hour we've got the basics of the mash-up written down. Her unfeeling resolve is let down and it doesn't hurt as much when I look at her now. Lucy Q, honestly is the most complicated person I've ever met. She's like Shrek, not ugly, just so many layers.

We gather up our things when we're done and walk back to the campus. I steal glances at her every few minutes, trying to figure out what to do next. On one hand, the bitch would like to play with my heart, and body, while getting action on the side from an old geezer. On the other, it hurts like a paper cut in between my fingers when she acts like she doesn't care. If I'm going to be hurt no matter what I do, I might as well create a third option between the two.

"So I was thinking ..." I begin slowly.

"Did it hurt?" Bitch. I ignore her comment.

"Why don't we start over and try being friends?" At that she stops walking and has this cute confused face on.

"Are you serious?" Why do people always think I'm joking?

"Yea, why not? I'd much rather be your friend than your enemy." I'm standing slightly ahead of her, waiting for her answer and to start walking again.

"You do realize we might strangle each other?" Her gaze is deep and calculating. What she's trying to figure out, I have no idea.

"That is a real possibility but I'm finding out that I'm a masochist." Oh, the truth of my words.

* * *

A/N: And with that, this fic is now going to be a series. Hope you all are happy with yourselves!

Also, special thanks to Air and Water! My awesome editor on vacation! Who knew finding a good beta would be so hard?

And lastly, love goes out to all who review but also all who follow and favorite this story. It really does mean a lot to me, like random hugs throughout the day!

P.S. New chapter for Piano's POV out tomorrow!


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